Children of the Night
by Bazylia de Grean
Summary: A vampire is sent to France to track Javert down. She'a a woman. And she's sparkling. Mary Sue/Javert. Les Miserables flavoured with Dracula, The Historian and... Twilight. Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.
1. Chapter 1

_Montreuil-sur-Mer, 1832, April_

..._  
><em>

In the middle of the town square, a black-clad figure got out of the carriage; that very moment he sun came out from behind a cloud. For a few dozen years the dwellers of Montreuil-sur-Mer kept telling that exactly at noon a spectre had appeared right in the middle of the town, in a cloud of sparkling smoke, yelling a curse. Rumour had it that the curse had probably concerned _Monsieur_ Madeleine, the former _maire_ of the town – probably because of his dark past – and the 'storytellers' from the local tavern kept making up more and more horrific hexes. Only an old drunkard, better known as Henri the Fence Hugger, stubbornly continued to claim that the exact words uttered by the frightening phantom had been: "Cursed be the blood of Cullens!"


	2. Chapter 2

_Paris, 1832, May_

...

If someone was watching one of the houses on Rue Plumet, a faint candlelight might have been registered in one of the windows. No one was looking; besides, a thick curtain was veiling the window.

The room behind the curtain was furnished as if in haste: a bed, covered with a rugged, stripped fabric, a home-made nightstand, a tiny pouf and a sixteenth-century dressing-table. The bed was barely visible from under a pile of dresses; a skilled observed would have recognized the occasional flashes of white material as petticoats. The top of the dressing-table had almost completely vanished under a pile of various cosmetics and jewellery, the latter sparkling softly in the light of a single candle.

The room was rather dark, but none of its two occupants seemed to care. It was also rather stuffy, partly because of clouds of cigarette smoke, but that did not seem to bother either of them.

A pale-faced, dark-haired woman was seated at the dressing-table. Under the black curtain of eyelashes, a pair of dark eyes squinted critically when the woman finished applying another layer of powder.

"Better put on some rouge." A young, fair-haired man was standing at the window. He opened his lips slightly and blew out another streak of cigarette smoke. His hair, shoulder-length and carefully arranged into artistic mess, suggested either an artist or a student.

"No way. I already fear my face would move towards the back of my head if I turn around too quickly. Help me lace the corset."

The young man finished smoking his cigarette, took its remains out of a cerise cigarette holder and threw it into a provisional ashtray, which was suspiciously looking like an old chamber pot. Then he walked over to the woman and laced her corset tighter.

"All right, enough. We don't want to break my ribs."

"Phew, they'll heal, eventually."

"I can't understand how one's supposed to breathe while wearing this." The woman did not have to worry about such details, anyway: she was not breathing. Once again she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. "Do I really have to go out dressed like this?" She eyed the low neckline of the dress.

"Any better ideas?" The young man lit up another cigarette and inhaled.

"But I look like a prostitute!"

"Not much choice here. You can either look like a prostitute, actually be a prostitute or not be one, but still behave like a whore." He shrugged and puffed out a perfect circle of smoke. "Sorry, dear. The Mary-Sue Fic Imperative."


	3. Chapter 3

If she really wanted to find the target, the masquerade made sense. Double sense, in fact. After all, what kind of women wandered the streets at that time of night?

"Cease thinking. Your expression's ruining the disguise," remarked the young man, taking another cigarette out of a golden case.

"Maybe you'd rather want to be the disguised one, hm?"

"No, thank you. Besides, during the later stages of the plan, there could be... complications. Of..."

"Of nature, yes. You've just burnt your coat."

"Where?"

"Just joking."

"Witch."

"Where?"

"You. Mean, vile, hairy witch."

"Mean and vile, all right."

They were passing along a tavern when the door opened and a drunk man stumbled out.

"Hey, lady, wanna some company?"

"No, thank you, already have some."

"Maybe the other lady'd like to join."

"Lady?" exclaimed the young man, offended.

"I'm in a hurry."

"We'll be quick 'bout it."

THUD!

"Damn, my tooth! You broke my tooth!" The man moaned in pain, sprawled on the ground and holding his hand to his cheek.

She adjusted the ring, adorned with a huge precious stone.

"Wanna have another one broken?" she asked sweetly, then caught the young man by the arm and continued down the alley.

"Shouldn't you have, you know, slashed him with your claws? Er, nails?" asked the young man, throwing out a half-smoked, broken cigarette.

She snorted.

"You, vegetarians. Ever tried to wash dry blood from under your nails?"

The young man brushed an invisible grain of dust off the lace ruffle at his right sleeve.

"I'd rather use a scalpel than my nails."

They crossed a street in silence. The young man was thoughtfully smoking another cigarette. The woman, following a sudden impulse, glanced at his lips.

"Carlisle?"

"Yes, dear cousin?"

"You've been using my lipstick again?"

…

Inspector Javert run into the street, alarmed by cries.

"But you let me!"

Javert quickened his pace. A picturesque scene unfurled before his eyes. A young man, probably a rich student, judging by the clothes, was lying on the pavement, held down by a woman. The woman, whose dress allowed to immediately identify her as a prostitute, was tugging at the young man's hair.

"Hold!"

The woman froze.

"I'm holding," she said with a smile, indicating a handful of the man's hair.

"What going on? Quickly!"

"He!" the woman accusingly pointed a finger at her victim. "He stole my lipstick!"

"You let me!" Retorted the young man. "She beat me!"

"Not true. I kicked him in the... ahem, strategic place, threw him down and then just kept pulling at his hair," the woman explained.

Javert experienced a sudden déjà vu. He approached the woman, grabbed her by the arm and forced her to stand up.

"You're under arrest."

"Me? He started it!"

The young man had already risen up and was busy arranging his coat back into order.

"Liar. She started it."

"Come." Javert, still holding the woman's arm firmly, pulled her after him.

"Wait a second! And you are..?"

"Inspector Javert. Any problems with that?"

That momentarily calmed her down.

"Lead on, inspector." Her voice was completely void of any worry.

Javert was certain of one thing: he had a bad feeling about this.


	4. Chapter 4

Maybe some details were not quite according to the plan, but generally it was working. Despite those details. She had not planned a row with Carlisle, for example. But, on new moon, she just could not stand when someone was borrowing her cosmetics without asking first. Especially if it concerned her lipstick and even more especially when it concerned Carlisle. Usually she get on well with her cousin, more less on a level of infinite armistice, but at times Carlisle Cullen could really get on her nerves. Unlike her other cousin, Vlad, Carlisle was a contradiction of everything a vampire was supposed to be. Unfortunately centuries before, Vlad's grandmother's cousin had gone to war, and then on a journey, and it was then he had met the half-sister of... a woman of Cullen blood, anyway. And it was an old tradition that vampire clans did stick together.

It took her a while to register Javert was talking to her. She blinked.

"Yes?"

"Name," Javert barked out. Clearly he was in a foul mood.

"Fleur Dumal," she answered immediately.

"Very amusing. Real name. I don't care how your clients do call you."

"Oh, that was very impolite of you, _Monsieur_."

"N a m e."

"Dumal."

"Real name!"

She sighed theatrically.

"Amália Bianca Brândusa Cătălina Franciska Gabriela Ibolya Ilinca Krisztina Lenuta Marica Miruna Sorina Tereza Viorica Zsuzsanna Arany Cullen Dalca Dumal Horváth Nemes Szarka Väduva Vasilescu Vörös."

The inspector looked as if all his life functions, from breathing up to thinking, stopped for a while.

"You asked for it." She shrugged.

"You're delusional."

"You want me to repeat?"

Inspector Javert grimaced.

"Any shorter form?"

"Marica Zsu-... I mean, Marie Suzette. Dumal."

For a while there was only the sound of pen scratching the paper.

"For how long am I supposed to stand like this?"

Javert put the pen away and looked up.

"Just a moment longer and you'll sit in your cell. I believe you can endure."

"Can't we negotiate?"

"Negotiate?"

"Well, you know, _Monsieur_..." She smiled seductively. The she pretended to take in a deep breath; for some reasons it always worked with men.

"No, I don't." The inspector face was inscrutable.

"If you would not close me up in a cell, we could go someplace private and..." She faked another inhale of breath. "And negotiate."

Javert stood up, then took her by arm roughly.

"I have a proposal. I close you up in a cell first. The we can talk. I've never noticed bars can disrupt conversation."

…

Javert was closing the door to the cell.

"Just half the usual price for the, err, guardian of the law," the woman offered, smiling coquettishly. She had no idea why, but she had heard once sales were always supposed to work.

Not this time. Javert just raised an eyebrow and continued closing the door. He did not seem interested.

"Believe me, inspector, I am an expert when it comes to human emotions." That, at least, was true. Smell, for example, could tell whole tales about a man. Javert's scent was actually saying the inspector was bored, mildly irritated and not the least interested. "Besides, you know what people say about that silent, upright ones..." She winked at Javert.

The inspector reached for his hat and turned towards the door, without a word.

"Where are you going? _Monsieur l'Inspecteur_!"

Javert halted in the doorway, half-turned his head and smiled with satisfaction.

"On my watch. _Bonne nuit_."

"_Merde_," she uttered under her breath, when inspector Javert departed. She was beginning to regret she had offered to help her cousin. This time, the bloody mission was impossible.


	5. Chapter 5

Javert returned at dawn. He barely managed to enter the building and immediately he was greeted by a loud cry.

"I demand to be transferred to the basement!"

The inspector glanced at the infernal woman, noticing that, unlike him, she did seem to have slept soundly the whole night. After a short hesitation, he decided discussing anything with a lunatic would be nonsense.

"Very well."

The woman flashed a smile.

"You see, _Monsieur_? Wasn't that difficult to be nice, was it?"

"But you're seeing a doctor in the afternoon."

"A psychiatrist?" She hinted.

"No. Do you have the necessary papers?"

"Necessary for what?"

"Ah-ha. You don't have them."

"Wait a second. Hey! Come back here! What doctor? Inspector? Inspector Javert, damn it! What doctor?"

Javert, not listening to whatever the lunatic woman wanted to say, returned upstairs.

"Move that woman to the basement. I'll be back in the afternoon."

"And before you come back, sir?"

"What 'before I come back'?"

"If she'll be yelling like that the whole day?"

"Once she's in the basement, we won't hear anything."

"She seems to like you... err, sir."

"Constable Leclerc." Inspector Javert smiled nastily.

"Sir?"

"You'll be guarding her. In the basement."

"But you will be back in the afternoon, sir?"

"Oh, I can be a bit late."


	6. Chapter 6

There were footsteps echoing from the stairs. Constable Leclerc, verging on a nervous breakdown, quickly evacuated from the basement, on the way almost literally running into inspector Javert and an elderly doctor. Seeing the old man (with glasses and a meticulously trimmed gray beard), Marie Suzette cursed.

"Damn! Van Helsing?"

Doctor Isaac Van Helsing stared at the woman behind the bars.

"Good heavens... You were the one who arrested her?" he asked Javert.

"Yes."

"And she didn't escape?"

"As you can see."

"How did you do it?" The doctor was now staring at Javert almost reverently.

Javert analysed Van Helsing's questions and behaviour. Something was wrong.

"Simply."

"Simply? You s i m p l y arrested a vampire?"

"Whom?" Javert was certain he misheard.

"Not whom but what. A vampire. You know, _Monsieur_...

"Van Helsing, I promise you a long and painful death." Marie Suzette Dumal moaned in exasperation.

"You can't be serious."

"Open the window, _Monsieur l'Inspecteur_, and you will see yourself."

"Oh, and she is supposed to burn, right?"

"Or to sparkle," answered Van Helsing with absolute certainty of an expert researcher.

"I see. I chose an inadequate doctor. But since you are here already, do examine her."

"No!" cried Marie Suzette and Van Helsing in unison. They exchanged disgusted glances.

Javert gritted his teeth.

"In that case, _Monsieur_, go find a more competent medic."

"I'll find one myself," Marie Suzette offered, in a suspiciously meek voice.

The inspector was ready to protest, but then thought it over. After all, if it was a chance to get rid of that infernal woman once and for all... Why not.

"Very well. Tomorrow morning. Bring the papers. Doctor Van Helsing, we're leaving."

"But..."

Javert caught Van Helsing by the collar.

"Which part of 'we're leaving' did you not understand?"


	7. Chapter 7

"How was your quest?" Carlisle leaned towards the fireplace and lit up another cigarette.

"I'm warning you, cousin. Last time wasn't enough, I see, hm?" Marie Suzette, clad in a modest black dress, perfectly highlighting the paleness of her porcelain-smooth skin, was brushing her hair.

"It's him?"

"I don't know. He wasn't very talkative. Plus, he brought Van Helsing."

"Whom?"

"Van Helsing. Damn, so many medics in Paris and he had to stumble upon Van Helsing."

Carlisle, having already recovered from the initial shock, shrugged.

"And what have you expected?"

"I know, I know... The Mary-Sue Fic Imperative strikes back."

"So-o... What are you going to do now?"

"Wait."

"Our dear cousin won't be pleased."

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. Phew, he used to be a normal vampire for centuries, and now suddenly he wants to find an heir. He should have kept an eye on the kid from the beginning, not after hells knows how many generations. And, if it's that important for him, he can question the inspector himself. He can even check for that bloody mark if he wants. On the shoulder blade or wherever. Hey, what are you staring at?"

"You like him."

"What? Whom?"

"Javert. You smiled at 'wherever'. My, cousin, isn't it, you know, a tad too much extravagance? Thinking t h a t way about f o o d?"

"I've never been a humanitarian, and you know it."

"Ah-ha! So you d o like him."

"What?"

"You didn't contradict." Carlisle lit up another cigarette and stretched out on the armchair. "I think your life lacked men who were not interested in you," he judged with the seriousness of an experienced, professional psychoanalyst.

Marie Suzette gave up and just grinned, a bit predatorily.

"I like a challenge. And you, Cullen, mind your tongue. You're not even half a century old, that just a ridiculous age for a vampire."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Life begins after the third century."


	8. Chapter 8

_Paris, 1832, first days of June_

...

Javert glanced down, at the water tumbling under the Pont au Change. Something flew past him, maybe a lost bat; he did not pay attention. The inspector took off his hat and put it on the balustrade.

A moment later he was standing next to his hat. He took one last look into the dark waves of the river, and then jumped... And stopped, suspended mid-air, because something was holding the tails of his coat.

"There are two possibilities," spoke a well-known female voice from up above. "You will give me your hand right now, or you'll be hanging down like that until morning. I can wait."

"You're not strong enough to hold me for so long."

Whatever was holding Javert moved him up and down.

"I can also use your coat to bring you up onto the bridge. However, considering the remains of your dignity..."

"You will let go of me."

"No way."

"Right now!"

The woman sighed.

"_Monsieur_ Javert. I promised someone I will find you. That is, I think you're the person I've been looking for. I have to ask you a few questions, preferably in a quiet place, less public than this. And then, if it turns out you're not the one I've been trying to find, you'll return here and jump off again. How about that? Deal?"

"I don't trust you. I'm probably already dead and went straight to hell. You want me to believe you're holding me? How so? You can't be that strong."

"Doctor Van Helsing did mention I am a vampire, didn't he?"

…

"How on earth did you get there?" Javert adjusted his hat. "I saw nothing."

"Hm, maybe you saw a bat?"

"And you expect me to believe that was you?"

"A part of me. You see, I usually fly as several bats."

"Let's suppose I believe that. Why several?"

"The principle of mass conservation."

"According to folk wisdom, you should turn into a single bat."

"Oh, I can."

"Yes?"

Javert almost tripled over his own foot when suddenly next to him, in place of Marie Suzette, there was a human-sized bat. Its wings and fur were patterned, and the pattern looked exactly like the one on Marie Suzette's dress.

"I think that was enough of an answer." The vampiress, back in her human form, was arranging the folds of her dress.

"It was."


	9. Chapter 9

Inspector Javert opened the door and motioned towards the only chair in the room. The infernal woman ignored the chair, of course, choosing to sit on his bed.

"I'm all ears."

"Where did you mother come from?"

Javert felt first pangs of irritation.

"What has my mother to do with it?"

"She was a Gypsy, wasn't she?"

Now Javert was seriously irritated.

"That is none of your business."

"Won't you answer?"

"No."

"Let's try the other way round. Do you have any marks? Dragon-shaped, for example?

"You're delirious. I had a bad feeling about this from the very beginning."

"But I told the truth about who I am, didn't I? So, _Monsieur_, won't you answer?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know if I have any marks. I don't spend my free time admiring my back in the mirror."

"Umh."

"I don't like the way you're looking at me, _Mademoiselle_."

"_Monsieur_, could you undress?"

"You're not serious."

"Yes, I am."

"Over my dead body!"

"You're putting me in a most uncomfortable situation."

"Could you leave already? I want to go back to that bridge."

"I couldn't."

"You leave, _Mademoiselle_. Now."

"Wouldn't you like to... You know, one last time before death..."

"No."

"Is there any way to convince you otherwise?"

"No."

Marie Suzette got up. Javert did not quite manage to notice the movement, but she had to get up, because the next moment she was standing right next to him. Inspector Javert valued his personal space very much, and it had just been violated by that woman. However, that was not the most precise description. Javert's personal space ceased existing for a while, wholly replaced by Marie Suzette.

"Are you certain there is no way to convince you, _Monsieur_?"

"No. And you will let go of me this instant." He did not really believe his words would have any effect. He was mistaken; there was an effect, only exactly the opposite of what he hoped for.

Marie Suzette did not let go of the inspector. Instead, she moved closer and kissed him.

"What about that way?"

"No."

Another kiss took his breath away a little.

"What about that?"

"No."

"Hm, and that?"

"No. _Mademoiselle_, would you let go of my coat?"

"Right away."

Javert's coat landed on the floor.

"Can't we at least negotiate?"

"No."

Marie Suzette sighed.

"There's nothing to be afraid of." She smiled seductively. "It won't be that bad, promise."


	10. Chapter 10

Javert was lying on the bed, watching the ceiling. There was a wide and apparently very satisfied smile on his face. Marie Suzette, wrapped in a blanket from head to toe, was lying next to the inspector, her back turned towards him.

"You were right." Javert mumbled. „It wasn't that bad. Quite the contrary."

"That's your opinion."

"Yes, mine." Javert was not a tiniest bit bothered. "May I remind it was you who insisted, not me?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Well, you asked for it. You should have thought of possible consequences."

"You should have warned me!"

"And how exactly? "Pardon me for interrupting you in jumping me, but I'm a virgin and, as such, don't have much experience?" You could have asked."

"As if you would answer!"

"Of course not."

"Javert, you have no idea how much you annoy me."

"_Merci, Mademoiselle_. I'm doing my best."

The blanket moved and revealed a tangled mass of dark hair. Under the hair there was a pair of dark eyes, right now glaring at Javert with hostility.

"Go jump off a bridge."

"No, thank you. Changed my mind on the matter."

"Are you saying I've actually accomplished a good deed?"

"Is that supposed to be a stain on your vampiric honor?"

A small, bony fist hit him on the ribs.

"That hurt!"

"That was supposed to hurt. You're getting on my nerves."

"The door is that way."

In a blink of an eye the blanket, with its contents (one very irritated vampire), were on top of Javert.

"Now, _Monsieur_, you've annoyed me really seriously."

"And so?"

"Well, since I've saved your life-…"

"I didn't ask for it."

"And I hadn't been planning it. But you've just admitted you're not going to return to the bridge."

"Not anytime soon, no."

"That counts. So you do owe me your life."

"Oh, have it your way."

"So you owe me for it."

"What exactly?"

"I'll think of something. And, we-ell, there are various ways to pay me…"

"We can negotiate."

…

"What's wrong with this blanket?" Javert kept observing the arrangement of the fabric. He would bet just a moment ago he had been covered up to his neck, while now the infernal blanket was reaching just up to his waist, at the same time covering Marie Suzette up to her shoulders.

"Don't ask." The vampiress sighed. She reached out towards the nightstand, grabbed Javert's silver snuffbox and took a pinch. "The Love Scenes A f t e r Imperative. The L-shaped blanket, reaching up to man's waist while covering the woman up to the shoulders."

"But that's nonsense. What if I'm cold and want to get covered up to the neck?"

"That's not supposed to have any sense. All right. It's been nice and all, now get out of my bed."

Javert coughed.

"The bed is mine."

"But you have to go to work. I don't."

"_Mademoiselle_, but you have to-…"

"I'm not going out in broad daylight! And draw down the curtains already!"

"I'm not exactly clothed."

"And there's exactly nothing there which I haven't already seen last night. Twice, mind you."

"_Mademoiselle_. Your eyes."

„What: my eyes?"

"Close them. And cover with your hand."

"And the magic word?"

"N o w."


	11. Chapter 11

_Transylvania, nearby Borgo Pass, 1832, autumnal equinox_

...

"That's not him."

"How so? Not him? I can recognize my own descendant!"

"Vlad, really… You've lost track of all those servant girls and Gypsy women, that's what."

"It IS him, I am certain. Check thoroughly. A dragon-shaped mark, on the shoulder blade."

"He doesn't have any marks. On the shoulder blades, or anywhere else. Do you want me to make a list?"

"In that case, we have to kill him. He knows about us."

"Hey, he's mine!"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?"

"He owes me."

"Just get over it! He has to die!"

"Better kill Carlisle. He'll compromise our whole race one day, mark my words."


	12. Chapter 12

_Paris, 1832, October_

..._  
><em>

Inspector Javert came back to his room late in the evening, tired after a busy day. He did not even quite manage to enter the room when he felt a cold touch of steel on his neck. Someone was threatening him with a sword. To the inspector's utter irritation, it was his very own sword.

"_Bonsoir, Monsieur_," a female voice spoke from behind him, right into his ear.

"Weren't you supposed to leave, _Mademoiselle_?"

"I've changed my mind." The sword hit the floor with a clang. Its place on Javert's neck was soon taken by a slender hand. "I deserve a pleasant night too, don't I, inspector?"

"What about last time?"

"It was dawn. That doesn't count." The hand left his neck and started a journey down, towards the buttons of his coat. The woman's second hand was already busy undoing the ribbon which was holding Javert's hair in a ponytail.

"Umh."

"Yes, yes, I know, it can take a while. I have all the time in the world. But first…" She was interrupted by a low rumble of her own unruly stomach.

Javert turned his head to glance at her.

"Hey, I am hungry!" exclaimed Marie Suzette Of-A-Dozen-Other-Names Dumal.

"But, _Mademoiselle_-…"

"Oh, come on. I don't hunt people. Do you really think I could ever sleep with f o o d?"

"We-ell... Not really."

"Good boy. Now do me a favour and go ask the landlady if she has some black pudding, by any chance. Or a bucket of milk. And then... We can negotiate, what then."

…

_LA FIN_

…

(And then Javert became a vampire, which allowed him to witness modern times and the Internet. He moved to the USA and got a job as a CSI consultant. One rainy, boring afternoon he discovered FanFictionNet, read a dozen of decent, well-written fanfics, then misjudged a few summaries and came upon some Mary-Sue fics, and in the end, by accident, he read a "sweet cute romantic" slash fic in which he was paired with Vajlean. If he were not a vampire, he would certainly have died of a heart attack. Because he was a vampire, he went into his car and drove to San Francisco, where he jumped off the Golden Gate bridge, on the way staking himself through the heart.

Marie Suzette, after learning of her lover's suicide, left the apartment on a sunny noon and sparkled herself to death.)

...

* * *

><p><em>Author's comment:<em>

_That was what my brain conceived after I was done with my thesis. A Mary-Sue fic – sweet, cute and-... Whoa, wait a second. Dark. And sparkling._

_Javert is, of course, a creation of Monsieur Hugo. I've just borrowed him for a while and messed with his psyche a bit… All right, not a bit. I doubt he will ever be the same after what happened to him in this fic._

_Also, obvious references to: Twilight, Dracula and The Historian. And some other references, wherever you can find them. (Such as the scene of Javert hanging down from the bridge… Pardon me, I just couldn't help it.)_


End file.
